


Desire

by KenrakenOkwaho



Series: Twisted Minds [1]
Category: Eragon (2006), The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Except for the obvious one, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, If you haven't read Eldest, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Incest, Introspection, M/M, Masturbation, No Spoilers, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Slash, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenrakenOkwaho/pseuds/KenrakenOkwaho
Summary: Murtagh's encounter with his brother leaves him with a thirst that he shouldn't want to quench.Takes place between Eldest and Brisingr.





	Desire

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's 5:24 AM and I didn't sleep because I really had to write this. I'm going to hell, but I regret nothing. Also, I'm new to this unfairly small fandom and this is my first work in it, so please be gentle with me. It is worth of mentioning that I do not condone incest in real life, but my mind just finds inspiration in the wrong places like damn... why, brain, why?
> 
> Oh, and I feel like I should say it, read and re-read the tags carefully and do not proceed further just to leave hateful comments. Thank you for your understanding, enjoy and please leave your feedback in the comments!

He leaves the battlefield with blood on his hands, pain in his heart and lust coursing through his veins like liquid fire, burning him from the inside out, smothering his senses. Nothing could have prepared him for the moment he laid eyes on his brother, mind reeling from the sight before going blank altogether.

_Eragon looked like a god. A divine warrior sent to destroy the world in order to reshape it, to erase sin and kindle faith, to ferry the dead and bless the living, to right the wrongs committed against thousands who have suffered under the vile reign of a mad king. The boy’s... No, the man’s skin glowed a fulgent alabaster akin to a guiding star that twinkled in the toxic light of the Burning Plains in perfect tandem with Zar’roc’s gleaming crimson. It was a dance, an enchanting, brutal, ruthless dance of death that left him hard and breathless. So vivid, everything is still so vivid, the ringing in his ears, the hot rush in his muscles and the need, oh, the need to get closer, to see, to feel his brother had been unbearable, hands twitching with the urge to caress and bruise, teeth aching to sink into soft flesh, instincts raging at him to mark, to take and take and take until Eragon’s very soul will belong to him and him only._

They don’t fly back to Uru’baen. Both rider and dragon know what awaits them there. Instead, they fly in silence aimlessly until they end up above Leona Lake. There, Thorn lands on his own accord, aware that his rider has lost all connection to the real world long ago. Through their telepathic link, the dragon has been able to feel every raw sentiment, every visceral sensation that tormented Murtagh ever since his encounter with Eragon. He felt and he grew tired. Neither says a word as the Foresworn’s son climbs down the reptile’s side, their interactions are forced enough as it is, their fledgling bond nothing but chain trapping them together, despite the incessant voices whispering that they care for each other more than they are willing to admit. Without as much as a glance, red wings spread and he flies away to hunt, leaving the human to wallow in his misery.

Alone, at last, Murtagh lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, letting his feet carry him on their own accord towards a tree nearby the lake’s shore. Once there, he feels his legs give out under his weight, any semblance of strength leaving his body as it trembles with intense thrills. Leaning his back against the rough bark of the tree, he stares up at the clear sky, each star reminding him of the graceful warrior that Eragon became. It's wrong. He knows it's wrong to feel like this, to _want_ his own brother. He knows and he hates it and he hates Eragon, but he just can't stop. Ensanguined hands trail down his body to rest on the tent in his trousers, the heel of his palm pressing lightly on the stiff length hidden under coarse material before deft fingers fumbles with the laces. He hisses when cold air meets the heated skin of his cock, pearls of pre-cum already trickling down from its slit as he wraps his hand around it.

_When their paths ultimately crossed, the carnal desire scorching his insides flared even wilder, tongue slipping out to wet dry lips whilst wide pupils were drawn to the contrast between pristine white and deep, dark red. The smell of blood and steel permeated the air, potent and alluring. Within him, the beast snarled as wave after wave of lust slaughtered any lucid thoughts left in his head. Then, a gentle breeze ruffled brown locks and his olfactory receptors had been overwhelmed with the aroma of crushed herbs and fresh blueberries. It made his mouth water. How delicious his brother must have tasted, sweet like a fruit, yet bitter like war. Grey eyes continued their perusal. Longer than he remembered, the other rider’s hair framed angular, almost feline features, high cheekbones, chiseled jaw, tapered ears peeking through the sweaty strands. _

A deep groan leaves his lungs, canines biting into his lower lip, skin slick with fluid, grip tight, pace unrelenting while his hand twists around his cock and he pleasures himself in reckless abandon to the memory of his brother’s perfect complexion, lewd noises filling the quiet night. He imagines that perfect mouth taking him in deeper and deeper, supple lips stretched around his thick member. He imagines the sounds Eragon would make, mewls and whimpers leaving his throat whenever Murtagh would give him the chance to breathe. The man would stare up at him, wide eyes glassy with tears, spit dripping down his chin and he would smile, fingers carding through his brother’s hair as he murmurs what a good boy Eragon is.

He pumps harder. Faster. Rougher.

_It all ended abruptly when his searching gaze was met with furious orbs, a hint of curiosity glimmering in their depths. Soon after, he witnessed Eragon’s reality spiral down into a myriad of emotions that swirled uncontrollably in brown irises. Shock, anguish, guilt, betrayal. They all flickered like ghosts in his brother’s stare and the side of him that cares wept for the elven rider. Still, the shadow clouding his soul grinned and sniggered mockingly, the familiar purr of his beast echoing inside his head, laced with the animalistic craving to wreck the righteous being lying at its feet. _

He cums with a growl and the mirror of Eragon’s face covered in his seed.


End file.
